The Jaguar remounted to the surface of the water and clutched his dagger, at the same instant the monster's silvery belly was visible, as it opened its enormous mouth, armed with terrible teeth, close set as those of a harrow. The Jaguar drove in his dagger with all his strength, and ripped the belly for about one-third its length. The hideous tintorera, wounded to death, gave an enormous bound, while wildly beating the water, and then fell back stark dead.
The Jaguar, half blinded by the blood-stained water, and tossed about in the whirlpool it had caused in its flurry, did not regain his senses for more than a minute. At length, by a supreme effort, he returned to the surface, inhaled the fresh air, and stifled a cry of triumph on seeing near him the inanimate body of his foe the sport of the waves. Without stopping, he took an anxious glance around.
"It's all over," a voice said near him.
"Is that you, Lanzi?"
"It is," the half-bred answered, in a voice as tranquil as if he were on terra firma.
"Well?"
"The shark is dead."
"Now for the third, then. Where is John Davis? I do not see him."
"Let us go and see."
Not troubling themselves about their comrades, who were swimming towards land, the two lion-hearted men dashed to the American's help. But all was gloomy and silent around them; in vain did they cross-question the darkness, nothing appeared, neither man nor tintorera.